The sound of a phone ringing echoed through the house.
Ring ring
"Mom your phone's ringing" Kevin — Nancy's son — called out.
"Who is it?" Nancy's voice came from the kitchen.
"I don't know. The number's not saved." Kevin replied.
"Why would a strange number call me?" Nancy muttered, walking towards her phone. "Who could it be?
She picked up the receiver.
"Hello?" She called out. "Who is this?"
There was no response. Just silence, total silence.
'Is this a prank call or what? Why is no one speaking up?' she wondered.
"Hello? Can you hear me?" Nancy's patience was thinning. "Who is this?"
A deep sigh came from the other end, as if the caller was gathering courage.
"Hello aunt, it's Nyra." Came the voice — soft, hesitant but steady.
Nyra didn't want to make this call. Anything seemed better than reaching out to Aunt Nancy. The ties had frayed long ago, relationships fractured over years of silence and old grievances. Reaching out wasn't an option; there was no safety net waiting for them. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Clinging to the last thread of hope, Nyra made the call.
'What's the worst that could happen? I don't expect anything from her anyway.' Nyra thought to herself, but deep down she hoped a miracle would happen, that her Aunt would help them.
"Why the sudden call? Did you miss me?" Nancy's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Aunt Nancy we need your help. Mom collapsed and she's in critical condition. The doctors said she needs surgery urgently, but it's expensive." Nyra said, her voice breaking. "Please help us."
"Oh? But that's not my problem." Her aunt snapped. "Go find the money yourselves. Last I checked, I don't have pitiable people for family."
"Aunt please…" Nyra pleaded, tears welling again. "She's your sister. Please help us."
"You know better than anyone that I won't budge even if the heavens come crashing down. That woman isn't my sister, she's just a filthy parasite trying to suck me dry." Her aunt's words hit hard, cutting through her, sharp as knives, shattering her hope to pieces.
"Aunt please…. Help us out, just this once. Our mom is dying. Please" Nyra begged, clearly sobbing now.
"Then let her die. Don't call me again." The line went dead.
'Of course, what was I expecting' Nyra thought bitterly as she sank slowly to the floor. Tears streaming freely.
Her father approached and crouched beside her.
"It's okay Nyra, don't cry. We'll figure something out." He said, gently patting her back. "You and your sister should go home and get some rest. I'll stay here tonight."
"Ok dad. I'll bring food and clothes in the morning." Nyra said quietly.
She called out to Kira, and soon they left the hospital.
At home, Nyra headed straight for the bathroom. Cold water cascaded from the shower head, but she barely felt it. The icy steam was like a dull number washing over her, trying to rinse away the fear and pain. She sobbed quietly, the sound drowned beneath the crashing water. After several minutes, she stepped out and went to bed.
Sleep didn't come easily. She tossed and turned, searching for comfort that wouldn't come. Like her hope, rest evaded her, until finally, just before dawn, exhaustion claimed her.
She woke up to gentle traps and Kira's voice.
"Nyra wake up"
Nyra blinked up. "What time is it?"
"it's 9am. We have to go to the hospital." Kira replied.
"I'll go get ready now." Nyra replied, rising immediately.
Downstairs, Nyra thought hard of what to do. Every second was now spent thinking of possible solutions.
Their restaurant — a modest, bustling place serving the neighborhood — had been their family's lifeline. It was where their mother's strength still lived: in every meal cooked, every customer served with a smile. It was enough to keep the children in school, keep the roof over their heads, combined with their father's taxi driver income. But hospital bills were a different beast.
Nyra's fingers brushed against the worn kitchen counter where late nights were spent cleaning pots and dreaming of better days. Now, those dreams felt even further away.
"We'll figure this out," Nyra said, voice steady but heart breaking. "I'll get a job. Anything. We'll pay whatever it takes."
Her sister's tears fell freely now. "I'm scared, Nyra. What if—"
Nyra cut her off gently. "We can't think like that. Not now. We have to be strong."
The thought of leaving school to work, stepping into a world she barely knew, felt like a heavy weight on her already burdened shoulders. But the fear in her sister's eyes, the fragile pulse of their mother's life, made her resolve firm.
They had no choice.
In that quiet kitchen, once warm and full of laughter, now cold and heavy, Nyra made a silent vow. For her mother, for her family, she would carry this weight — somehow.
She began preparing breakfast. They needed to eat, needed energy to face the long day ahead.
Outside the window, the city moved on, oblivious to the quiet battle unfolding in this small home.